Forbidden Desires Box Set Page 7

  He could end up being a total creep about it.

  I tried very hard not to have that revelation cross my face, but I couldn’t tell how successful I was. Mr. Fitzgerald just didn’t seem like that kind of guy. He was handsome, rich and successful; he could get anyone he wanted most likely and never have to be a creep at all.

  But still, that was just me assuming, right?

  Sometimes the worst people came in the prettiest packages. Maybe I was even more of an idiot than I thought. Maybe this was the moment where the curtain dropped, and he crossed a whole bunch of lines.

  My stomach twisted at my idiocy. I knew better than this. Kissing my boss was definitely a power imbalance that only asked for trouble.

  “So, I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

  Oh God, oh God. Suddenly I found myself very much wanting to only be fired and nothing else.

  “Obviously it would be more convenient if these things can be avoided entirely,” he continued, his low voice so enticing despite the awful words that I knew were going to come out of it. “But life is rarely so convenient. So, I believe an apology is in order.”

  I opened my mouth automatically, ready to say whatever I needed to fix things, but then he kept right on talking.

  “I believe that I misinterpreted the situation between us, and for that I am sorry. If you would like to be transferred to a different department, or manager, I will put that in immediately. If you’re no longer comfortable working here, I have several connections that would love to have you instead.”

  I stared at him, eyes wide. “W-wait, what?”

  He smiled ever so wanly at that. “I may be a demanding boss. And some may even call me a hard ass, but I’m not a predator. I’m not interested in pursuing someone that isn’t attracted to me, and I should have been much more cautious in our… interaction.”

  “That’s nice and all but-” before I could really think about it, the words were tumbling out of my mouth. “The problem is I am attracted to you.”

  His eyebrows went up at that and the serious expression on his face softened ever so slightly. But then he was looking at me like that again. The same way he had looked at me right before giving me a drop-dead amazing first kiss. Oh geez, there should have been a hazard warning around that kind of look.

  “Well, if you’re attracted to me, and I am more than attracted to you, then what’s the problem?”

  Wait, what!?

  He was attracted to me?

  My brain tried to wrap around the idea. He was a towering, absolutely ripped piece of very rich man-flesh and I was… well, me. Sure, I knew I was cute, and I knew that there was a good chunk of the population that liked plus size women like me. But those people weren’t like Mr. Fitzgerald. They weren’t mega-billionaires with a corporate empire who hung out with models, stars and other movers and shakers.

  “The problem?” I murmured, trying to make sense of it all. Even if I put aside the absolutely ridiculous notion that he could ever be attracted to me, there was a whole different issue that locked up my brain.

  I swallowed, my mouth opening and closing several times. I wanted to tell him it was because I was a virgin and the thought of sex was more than terrifying to me. That it symbolized a loss of control and autonomy that I had spent years building up over myself. That it required a level of trust that I hadn’t felt for another person since I was ten years old.

  But I didn’t say any of that. “It wouldn’t be appropriate,” I eked out instead, cursing myself for not having the guts to say what was really going through my mind.

  “Appropriate?” he repeated. “I would take not interested, too complicated, or many other reasons, but appropriate doesn’t make much sense to me.”

  “You don’t see how you, my employer, making out with me after hours might not be a little, uh, indecent?”

  He grinned at that. “Ms. Viello, I believe you’ll find that appropriate and indecent are indeed two very different things.”

  My breath picked up as I looked up at him. Goodness, how was it possible for him to be so attractive?

  “But not necessarily mutually exclusive,” I took a moment to center myself, trying not to be distracted by how unfairly handsome he was. For all my posturing for thinking that I would never be affected by something so shallow, I was finding it harder and harder to keep myself impervious to his charm.

  “Fair enough,” he said, smiling down at me like I pleased him. And I found that I liked pleasing him. I wanted him to look at me like that all the time, like I was the most impressive thing he had seen in ages. “So, what I’m understanding is that the kiss wasn’t a problem with you and there’s no need to shuffle any work arrangements.”

  “No,” I answered quickly. Probably too quickly. “It was just a kiss. I’m fine.”

  He bent down ever so slightly, like he was an eclipse blocking out everything else. I turned my face up to him, not knowing what to think or what I was hoping for.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call it just a kiss at all, but I am glad to hear that we can continue working together.”

  There was a pulse between us, that same sort of enticing pressure that I had felt Friday night. His breath washed over my face and goodness, I’d never been so tempted to confess my virginity before.

  But I wouldn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  He was my boss, no matter how hot he was, and twice my age. Sure, he may have forgiven me for slipping up, but I wasn’t going to push my luck. I needed to lock myself back within my defenses before I made another stupid mistake.

  Besides, maybe this was all some sort of weirdly elaborate and cruel joke, like a couple of boys had tried to play in high school. They would jokingly ask me to a dance or feign interest, intending to humiliate me if I dared believe them.

  I never fell for it, of course, and I wouldn’t let myself now.

  “Me too,” I whispered, needing to say something, anything, that would relieve the tension between us. “It took me way too long to get a good job with benefits to give it up now.”

  He laughed gently at that and sat back, finally letting me breathe. “Very good. In that case, now that the party’s done, you can assume your normal duties. I’ll email you your tasks of the day shortly. For now, my usual coffee order will do.”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll get right on that.”

  I stood, my knees wobbling slightly but feeling oh so relieved. And confused. And flushed. Actually, I was a whole mess of things but at least I had a job and wasn’t in trouble.

  Everything was behind me, I just had to keep moving forward and not mess up.

  “I’ll see you in a bit then, Ms. Viello.” His soothing voice floated after me, almost as if it was begging me to turn around and tell him all the bizarre things on my mind.

  “See you,” I murmured back.

  Goodness, not messing up suddenly seemed like it was going to be so much harder than I thought.

  Beverly

  Hands gripped me, warm and strong and everywhere. My breath came in little tiny pants as I writhed against the sensation, loving being held, loving being reminded that I was solid and real.

  The world was a haze as I looked above me, seeing those oh-so-familiar chocolate eyes and salt and pepper hair.

  “Bev…” he whispered, making my body push up into him.

  I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be encouraging this, but his large, warm form was over mine and I just wanted to feel him instead of fighting against it.

  “Touch me,” I whined, reaching for him. Both he and I were entirely too dressed, me in one of my sensible work outfits and him in his normal button up and slacks.

  Except the top buttons of his shirt were undone, allowing me to see a small bit of his toned chest. I wanted to do so many things to that small expanse of tanned skin. Press my lips to it, lick it, caress it. Feel it so thoroughly that it was burned into my brain like a map.

  But then his lips were on my neck and everything else was sliding a
way. All my hang ups, even the wondering of how we got into this position. Were we at my place? His place? It didn’t matter. All that was important was that he was here with me.

  “Are you gonna be my good little assistant,” he murmured into the skin of my neck, his teeth gently grazing against me. “Gonna do what you’re told?”

  The arousal that flooded through me at that was absolute embarrassing, and all I could do was whine affirmatively. He chuckled darkly at that, voice full of want and desire, before his hands moved down my body to my thick thighs.

  There his fingers lingered, caressing, exploring, building up a fire in me that felt like it was going to absolutely consume me. I whined again, wanting to feel him even closer, but the sound was quickly interrupted by a loud rip.

  I gasped, looking down my body to see that he had torn my skirt right in two. My cheeks flooded with warmth at that and I was sure I was absolutely crimson, but when Mr. Fitzgerald looked up at me, all I saw in his gaze was pure, predatory desire.

  And I loved it.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, creeping down my body, placing kisses over my clothes until he was hovering just over my panties. Was I wearing my cute ones? My practical ones? I didn’t know, and it didn’t seem to matter because then his blunt fingers were gently caressing the fabric.

  “Did you wear these just for me?”

  I nodded, not knowing what else to say. I was breathless, and my head was whirling even as the back of my mind told myself that this was a terrible idea.

  “Such a good assistant.”

  Yeah. I was. The best assistant. I deserved a reward for that, right? I worked so hard and I always did everything to the best of my ability. Certainly, it wouldn’t be a sin to sit back and reap a little benefit from it, right?

  Before I could decide either way, his mouth pressed into my clothed center, my panties so soaked that it felt like he was actually touching flesh. And yet… it was so much filthier than that. Something about that thin layer of silk or satin between him and me made me burn that much higher, and my thighs tried to snap closed on instinct.

  But his strong hands gripped them, holding me down as he did what no one else had ever done for me. Sure, I had watched porn occasionally or read erotica, but this was wholly different.

  I writhed, bucked and sweated under him, but he seemed to pay me no mind, working me over until I was just at the crest of something blinding. Something perfect. Something I craved with such a sudden fierceness that it almost made me cry.

  But he pulled away before I could tumble over that abyss and I found myself staring at him in heady confusion.

  “Wha…?” I murmured almost drunkenly before his body settled over mine.

  “I want you,” he breathed into my lips before kissing me senseless again. “All of you.”

  “…all of me?” I didn’t understand until my mind connected the dots. There was something hard and heated pressing insistently into my thigh and his whole body was a tense as a wall.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Suddenly the punch-drunk feeling of happiness and arousal wavered. Was I ready? This was a big step. I didn’t even remember how I got this far, was I really about to-

  The sound of a zipper sounded below me and then Mr. Fitzgerald was moving. I jerked and looked down, realizing that I was about to see exactly what he was-

  I sat up so hard that I felt my back pop and then suddenly I was in my studio apartment, blankets bound up all around me.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered to myself, brushing my hair back from my face only to realize that I was absolutely covered in sweat. “Aw, gross.”

  My mind was reeling from everything that happened and it wasn’t until I stumbled to the bathroom to wash off my face that I realized what happened.

  I had had a sex dream.

  I never had sex dreams!

  It was probably all the maybe-maybe not flirting that had been going on between me and Mr. Fitzgerald ever since that kiss. Sometimes it seemed like everything was normal and he was back to being a hard ass with impossible standards who never stopped working once he was on the clock. But other times it seemed like he was bantering with me, his smile a little too wicked and his gaze a little too interested.

  I kept bouncing between feeling flushed that he trusted me enough as an employee now to show me his more human side every now and then, being absolutely sure that I was imagining everything, and thinking that he was still trying to trick me. It was a confusing place to be, so no wonder my mind had been full enough to leech into my dreams.

  I shook my head and stumbled sleepily back to my room to check my phone. It was only about half an hour before I normally woke up anyways, so I might as well go about my day. Not that I didn’t usually need every minute of sleep I could get, but I knew that I was too wired and tense to even slip back under before my alarm went off.

  So instead I indulged myself with a longer shower than usual, letting the hot water wash over the curves of my body and turn my skin a bright pink. I always liked the water to be near-scalding, and for once I had enough time to let it actually get hot.

  But as I soaped myself up, it was so easy to get distracted. I felt so oversensitive, with my skin demanding contact but the brush of my fingers being not quite enough. My hand crept towards my womanhood, itching to satisfy myself as only I had been able to for my entire twenty -two years, but I forced myself to stop.

  I knew me, and if I masturbated, I would be so sleepy and boneless that getting to work would be absolute torture. No, I was just going to have to wait until I got home at the end of the day.

  Besides, it was one thing to have a sex dream about my boss, which I couldn’t exactly help, but it would be another entirely to get myself off with Mr. Fitzgerald and his impossibly chiseled chin on my mind.

  So, I soldiered through my routine, getting to take a little extra time with breakfast too. But by the time I got to work I was strung as tight as a fiddle and about as liable to pop. My whole skin felt too tight and too hot for my body while my focus kept flitting everywhere, like it was trying to find some forbidden relief.

  This time, when I reached my desk, I only set my things down and then headed straight for Mr. Fitzgerald’s office. Ever since Tuesday, we’d been working on a new project in his office. Well, he was working, I was taking notes and diction and only occasionally offering my opinion.

  I grabbed his coffee -I had started to pick it up on my way to work rather than dropping all my stuff off at my desk then heading right back out again- then strode into his office.

  For a moment I was sure that he could read everything that happened right on my face, but his smile was only as jovial as usual.

  “Ah, Ms. Viello, good. We can start again.”

  “If you’re ready, sir.” I said politely. “Do you have any morning tasks that need to be done first?”

  He waved the idea away with one of his large hands and I tried not to focus on what those thick fingers had done to me during my dream. But even as I tried to stop myself from thinking about it, I could still feel my cheeks slowly coloring. Maybe I needed to stay wearing make up to work, if only to cover up the embarrassing flush of guilt.

  “Are you alright?” Mr. Fitzgerald asked, his hand reaching out. Before I knew what was happening, his palm was resting right on my forehead, as if he was taking my temperature.

  It was such an innocent gesture, but my whole body froze. He was touching me.

  He was touching me.

  “You’re quite warm,” he said with no shortage of concern.

  “There was just a lot of wind outside,” I said, as if a little breeze-burn could have me flushed so.

  “Ah. I see. You know, you do have sick days.”

  “Not yet,” I answered quickly. “I’m still in my probationary period. While I do have benefits, vacation and sick days don’t kick in until after the ninety-day period. Besides,” I squinted at him. “You’re certainly not taking a sick day.”

  “Y
eah, but I have an incredible mattress, my own car to get me home faster and a personal shopper so I don’t have to worry with all the day to day chores that I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

  “Alright, good point. But now you’re just bragging.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, that smile sliding back into place. “But is it so wrong of me to want to impress you?”

  “Wasting an assistant does seem like an awful waste of time.”

  “Not if it’s you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just looked to my notebook. “I believe I was taking dictation?”

  There was the slightest pause where he smirked. “Yes, I believe so.”

  And then we were right back to business, him prattling off different ideas and tasks he needed to even get to the planning stages of his next project. I had never known that there was a pre-planning phase before the planning phase, but I was learning all sorts of things from Mr. Fitzgerald.

  When I could concentrate, that was.

  “Are you getting this, Ms. Viello?”

  “Bev,” I said suddenly, surprising even myself. “Please, call me Bev.”

  He was quiet again for a long moment, his eyes appraising me from head to foot before he nodded slowly. “Alright then, Bev. Did you catch what I last said?”

  “No,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks flame even harder. “Could you repeat it again?”

  “Yes,” he answered, voice low and full of that authority that I half loved, and half grated against my nerves. “Try not to let it happen again.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  I dipped my head back down to my notebook, inwardly cursing myself. I needed to get my head together if I was going to survive through the day and the return trip to my bed -and my beloved vibrator.

  Ugh. It was going to be a long day.

  I looked at the clock furtively, adrenaline pumping through me like I was in some sort of battle royale. It was only a half hour from quitting time and I was more on edge than I had ever been in my entire life.